Forbidden Comfort Forged in Fury
by pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: Based on a scene from Captain America: The Winter Soldier (Spoiler Alert), a defining moment brings grief and dread to Steve and Natasha, and both need each other more than they would care to admit. Please provide feedback as it is greatly appreciated, plus I'm not sure about this one.


_"__In misery it is great comfort to have a companion."  
__― __John Lyly_

* * *

Steve stood watching Nick fight for his life, the heavy beat of hasty footsteps made its way towards the door, which violently flew open revealing Natasha Romanoff. Her breathing was excessive, fast and laborious, and the sound seemed to consume the whole room, drowning it in a somewhat contained panic. Striding across the room she placed herself at Steve's side, his usually crystal, blue, innocent eyes now looked intense, stormy and grey, his stare piercing through the glass and monitoring the situation at hand closely. He heard her take a deep breath, trying to steady herself and manage the erratic breathes that had wrangled her lungs,

"Is he gunna make it?" To which Steve replied softly,

"I don't know." The heart monitor continued to beat incessantly echoing throughout the room, but its presence brought with it stability; Nick was still with them,

"Tell me about the shooter?" She needed to occupy her mind, she needed something logical to think through, erratic, immobile emotions were no good to anyone,

"He's fast, strong..." At this Steve lowered his head; he felt an overwhelming feeling of failure push against his chest,

"... had a metal arm." Natasha felt alarm bells softly ring in the back of her head, however she needed more information to confirm, as Agent Hill came beside her she requested firmly,

"Ballistics?" Hill replied in the same steady tone that she delivered all information,

"Three slugs, no rifle and completely un-traceable."

"Soviet made." Abruptly the steady beats of the heart monitor started to increase dramatically. All three onlookers felt their breathes catch within their throats, and Natasha found her hand had grabbed Steve's in a movement of fear. However Steve did not flinch from her touch, and found his thumb gently stroking hers. Although neither of them would describe their relationship as close, this moment of intimacy was needed at a time when the stability of their futures waned precariously. Both needed something, someone, to grab on to whether it was literal or not, and right now all they had was each other. The beeps were now coming in quick succession, and the doctors frantically moved around the operating table in order to try and subdue Fury's hear rate to its normal pace. The room reverberated with barked instructions and the shuffling of panicked feet. Steve stood up straight, releasing Natasha's hand, as he felt a tension spread from the pit of his stomach throughout his body. Natasha's intense emerald eyes were now dilated in fear, and were the only indication of any reaction to the current event unfolding before them. Although they were no longer each other's physical anchors, their hands now hung by their sides and were only a mere few centimetres away from each other, both grasping comfort from the presence of the other. As the beeps now submerged into one constant hellish tone Natasha forced herself to speak,

"Don't do this to me Nick."

The doctors grabbed the defibrillator plates and placed them firmly against Fury's chest, electricity coursed through Nick's body beating at each cell in order to awaken him from constant tone of flat lining. Steve and Natasha were both frozen still, entranced by the tragic scene that was played out before them, shock taking hold of both of them and forcing them to watch. 'Clear' was called repeatedly and bounced off of the walls, a deadly echo, accompanying the never ending tone of the heart monitor. Steve and Natasha were both shaken from their stupor when the doctor removed the defibrillator pads and the word 'negative' had made its way to them. Nicks heart had not been coerced back to its steady beat. **He was gone**.

Natasha bit her lip, trying to prevent it from quivering, however the glassy sheen that had covered her eyes betrayed her and as she felt the first tear start to trickle down her cheek she turned and quickly left the room. Steve was rather concerned to the extent that Natasha had been effected by Nicks death, it is not that he thought she should not feel any emotions but that he had never seen her display any so freely, and it had rather taken him aback. Following after her out the door he saw her striding with an ever increasing speed down the hall, her hands balled into fists and her shoulders were raised slightly consumed with an ever growing tension and strain,

"Natasha!" He called after her but she did not stir. He ran after her grabbing her wrist and pulled on it when she refused to turn to meet him. Turning violently she started to pound her fists into his chest, and although her cheeks showed the remnants of silent tears her eyes glowed with a violent fury that drove her fists into Steve. Anger coursed through every vein in her body, inducing her limbs into a fit of rage and hate, a feeling she had not felt for a very long time. She felt helpless and lost; for it seemed that the one place that had kept her safe and had saved her from herself was deteriorating at a rapid pace. It wasn't until Steve wrapped his arms around the grieving agent, whispering words of comfort and condolence that she halted her assault. For she was not only grieving the death of a good man, but also the death of the support system that had redeemed Natasha from the darkness that had once consumed her. Holding her close to his chest he let his fingers intertwine with her crimson tresses, his fingers tracing circles in a bid to calm the raging storm that was Natasha Romanoff. He felt the tension ease from her as she relaxed into him, encompassed by his strong arms she let herself succumb to the indulgence of comfort and human contact. **Just this once**.


End file.
